I don't care what my teacher says/I'm gonna be a supermodel/And everyone is gonna dress like me/Wait and see/When I'm a supermodel/And my hair will shine like the sea/And everyone will wanna look just like me...
Cause I'm young, and I'm hip and so beautiful/I'm gonna be a supermodel/'Cause I'm young, and I'm hip and so beautiful/I'm gonna be a supermodel!
I wish that I was like Tori Spelling/With a car like hers, and a dad like hers/And I will show them how, how it was done/And that'd be fun; that'd be fun/And I'd write my school report/On "Why I love my jeans; why I love my jeans"/And oh! On my locker door/It's the coolest thing that you've ever seen...
'Cause I'm young, and I'm hip and so beautiful/I'm gonna be a supermodel/'Cause I'm young, and I'm hip and so beautiful/I'm gonna be a supermodel!
I didn't eat yesterdayAnd I'm not going to eat today/And I'm not going to eat tomorrow/'Cause I'm going to be a supermodel/'Cause I'm young, and I'm hip and so beautiful/I'm gonna be a supermodel...
--"I Wanna Be a Supermodel" (Letters to Cleo)
Somehow I got drafted into being in a runway fashion show this week. This is not a joke. (Okay, it's actually one heck of a joke, but mostly because it actually did happen.)
There are many stories I could share, but I'm behind on blogging and short on time. I will share the best of the worst:
Most of the models in the show were actual models/model material: tall, bronze-skinned Amazonian blondes. The night before the runway show, I had to attend a rehearsal for said show. During the run-through of a section in which I was not participating, I was seated beside a mother of one of the models. She pointed out her willowy golden daughter to me. Then, another girl strolled down the catwalk - a long-necked girl with cinnamon-hued hair and porcelain skin.
"Oh, look at that poor baby," she whispered to me, scandalized. "She is so pale! I've tried talking to her mama, but she still won't take her to the tanning salon. Can you believe that?"
I believe the expression on my face could only be described as "What the SWEARWORD is wrong with you? How the SWEARWORD is that okay for a parent to say?"Overall, it was an interesting experience, and I'm glad I could help the person who was coordinating this show. But, just in case I ever had any doubts: I am so not model material.
2 comments:
1. You are already a model. You are a role model for hundreds if not thousands. I know this to be true.
2. Amazonian: yeah, I know we use it for tall --- BUT the original Amazons were strong warrior women so dedicated to their archery that they cut off one breast so it wouldn't get in the way of their aiming/drawing the bow. These babes no doubt had FLESH as in MUSCLE on their bones and did not need men at all. They had an agreement of sorts with male locals to meet to mate and they'd drop off male babies and keep the girls.
Now THOSE are not model material!
eeeewww! one breasted amazonian women give me the heebie jeebies.
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